Yellow Brick Road
by nicowa
Summary: Sequel to 'Scars'. Everybody has a journey to make.
1. Chapter 1

AN: Picks up straight after Scars-Decisions.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Neville watched Hermione go, walking a little too fast to fit in with the slow-moving crowd so that he could watch her procession as far as the floo chimneys where she disappeared in a flash of green fire. His Grandmother was talking too loudly and too fast to be making any real sense but he'd grown up with her and so could follow her train of thought even if no-one else could.

Although that could be a good thing. He ignored the looks he was getting from the other wizards and witches as he followed this steamroller of a woman. People move quickly out of the way when they saw he coming and Neville just had to stay in her slipstream to avoid being jostled.

They went up into muggle London where the summer sun was giving way to the dim of night, such as it was in the city. They flagged down the Knight Bus and hung on as it careened down the busy streets swerving and dodging anything that wouldn't get out of the way.

In one sense Neville was glad it took everything he had just to stay sitting, it meant he couldn't drift off into his own little world for long, which meant he wouldn't have to think about Hermione's little pronouncement back in the Ministry headquarters.

They left London behind with a bang. Granny lost her hat in the sudden motion and Neville smiled. Then laughed, huge bellyaching laughs that caused tears to spring from the corners of his eyes. He could feel the hysteria bubbling up inside him and he let it all out. He clutched at the railing beside him, the only thing holding him up, he clutched at it as if it was his only lifeline in the crushing sea that was pulling him under.

Dimly he was aware of Granny landing a heavy hand on his shoulder and he looked up at her, laughter still gripping him as he fought to control it.

He thought she would lecture him, try to instil in him the Longbottom family virtues she had fought so hard to teach him. But as he looked into her brown she was silent, her lips pinched together in a hard line until he though her face would crack from the pressure.

He deflated like a balloon, swift and sudden. All energy gone now he leaned back. Out of reach of her hands, but now of her eyes. Those eyes that had followed him since he was a baby, watching him as he learned to walk, as he got his first letter from Hogwarts and later as he was told he'd killed a friend he would have died to save.

There was no recrimination in her eyes, no reproach. Only the hard pinch that, oddly, he had come to recognise as the only means she had to tell him she loved him. In that moment Neville felt he truly understood his Grandmother.

Understood how she had boxed herself away from the world, through Voldemort and those terrible years when he would never know if her son would live to fight another day as Auror, through the news that he had fallen so soon after everyone had though they could learn to live again, and knew that his Grandmother would see him through this like everything else.

There was a lurch as the bus stopped at the gate of their house and the moment was lost.

"Come along Neville," she said in the quiet roar she said everything in and Neville sighed. He stood up and walked quickly after her. She was half way down the path when she turned to look at him. She nodded once, sharply. Then said to him gruffly, "what doesn't kill us, Neville!"

They walked on.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Picks up where 'Scars - Decisions' left off. We'll find out more able the tie they share as the chps go on. Also I'll be writing about Hermione and the flashbacks with Draco in a sister story, I don't want his one getting as messy as the last one did.

Disclaimer: I won nothing... not true I have a car. BUT I do not own Harry Potter or BtVS, they belong to JK Rowling and Joss Whedon respectively. (But hey Christmas is coming... you never know!!)

Words: 1,500

Chp: 1/?

----

Dawns mind raced as she hurried down the dark street. Had they realised yet? Would they be angry? Worried? Upset?

More importantly, would they be trying to find her?

Harry had said they shouldn't be able to find her once she was in the Wizarding World.

But they might and she couldn't let that happen. They couldn't get in the way, it was too important and they might try to stop her or worse… help her.

She was marked now, Harry said, they were tied and if anyone realised, anyone in the Wizarding World, realised that the prophesy was still intact, if slightly changed, they may be able to track her. Voldemort would be out to kill her, to stop her from getting to London where she could contact the Order and find a way to stop him.

So she hurried down the street, following the tug of the pendant she'd fashioned and Harry had shown her how to enchant to lead her to the nearest entrance to the Wizarding World.

She just had to get there before Willow could do a locator spell.

Dawn had been amazed that Sunnydale had a Wizarding World at all. Surely, she thought, Buffy had known about this. Harry had assured her that unless she was a witch, a certain type of witch he stressed, she wouldn't have known.

"The Wizarding World have been keeping themselves secret for hundreds of years. They've had lots of practice." He told her with a smile.

She nodded, too busy looking around to really listen. The pendant had guided her to the Central Bus Station - _where else?_ she thought – and the pendant had started glowing faintly. She put her back to the wall and felt along it with her hand.

_Concrete, concrete, con-_

"That feels different." She said knocking on the wall. "What now?"

Harry shrugged looking bewildered.

"I don't know. Back at Kings Cross you just have to walk through the barrier. I didn't think there would be a trick to it."

Dawn thought about that for a minute.

"Muggles don't go through it do they?" Harry shook his head. "Right." She took a deep breath. "Give me your hand."

Harry stared at her like she had a second head. She held out her hand impatiently. Then shook it when all he did was stare.

"You know I'm a ghost right?" She just stared. "Fine."

He held out his hand and slid into the space next to hers.

"Cold." She shivered. He nodded again, then pressed his hand against hers.

Against all probability his hand did not go through. He could feel the warmth of her skin and feel the pulse of her blood rushing through her veins, slightly faster than normal. He took a shuddering breath and smiled back as she gave him an encouraging grin.

She ran her hand along the back wall again and shrieked when her hand slid through the wall this time. Grasping his hand tightly (_how is that even possible?_ she wondered) before taking the few steps that put her through the wall and out the other side where the dingy bus station changed into… a dingy floo station.

"The difference is remarkable," she said sarcastically. Harry ignored her instead looking down to their joined hands.

"How did you know that would work?" He asked. She shrugged.

"Stood to reason," was all she said and he let it go at that.

There were of course differences. Instead of the jeans and t-shirts favoured by the youth of America, everybody was dressed in a variant of the bathrobe theme.

These subtle differences and the floos themselves made Dawn really nervous. The glowing green fires startled her every time someone appeared or disappeared within them and when Harry reminded her that that was how she would be travelling she went white.

"Don't worry. It's a little disorientating but otherwise you'll be fine," he told her. "You just have to be sure you say the name of your destination clearly."

"Or what?" she whispered back. Since she was the only one who could see Harry she was conscious that she must look mad talking to herself like this.

"You go a grate too far, maybe two."

"That's all?" she asked suspiciously. "I don't, like, get turned inside out or anything?"

He shook his head with a grin. She stood up straight.

"Right, lets get on with it then."

She approached the nearest notice boards listing the local fireplaces, LA and San Francisco as well as one or two towns in between, but the major international cities.

And then there were the prices. She bit her lip. It wasn't any kind of money she had heard of.

"You must have to connect through LA or something," Harry said, not sounding entirely sure himself. Dawn was too worried to notice.

"What the hell is a Ke-nut?" she whispered.

"Knut. Wizarding Money. Don't worry it says they take American money as well."

She nodded and paid for a fireplace to LA at the counter. But when it came to her turn she nearly turned right around and walked back out of there. It was only Harry's calming influence that got her to step into the emerald green fire (_ the same colour as his eyes_ she thought hazily) and to say clearly, "Los Angeles Station".

A flash of green flame and she was spinning. She caught her breath and closed her eyes, the sight of the passing grates making her feel sick. A few moments of dizziness and she was there.

She stumbled out of the fireplace.

"Ohhh! God!" She protested weakly. "Not doing that again!" She was doubled over trying to wish her stomach back to its proper place. She stood up and got her first proper look of the place. And gasped.

Harry laughed at the look on her face.

"This is what the Wizarding World is like," he told her, pride evident in his voice. She nodded too distracted to pay much heed.

She had stepped from the fireplace into a huge auditorium sheeted in marble. Huge chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceiling and everywhere people thronged.

There were more people than she had ever seen in the one place. Of every shape, size and origin. She saw a bunch or dark-skinned teens wrapped in a Brazillian flag wearing colourful robes walk past, a group of school kids wearing the bored look of teens everywhere went by. Families walking pulling trollies and adults with bags of their own. American, Chinese, French, languages Dawn hadn't even heard before.

And above all, nobody sparing a glance for the American girl with eyes as wide as saucers trying to take it all in.

There were shops, all kinds of shops. Selling objects that whizzed and popped and sent off multicoloured sparks. Robes of varying intensities of colours, even casual clothes that would pass on a Muggle street, though with a few raised eyebrows. Some simple souvenir shops, though from her quick glance most were unusual in her opinion.

"They're moving!" she gasped.

Another shop offered owls to send a message to loved ones back home. The hooting of the owls added to the general confusion that is the trademark of any station anywhere.

She took her time wandering around the station. There was a peculiar freedom in being able to look at all these magical objects without Buffy or Willow looking over her shoulder, or pulling her away. Though she wished she could show Tara around. She would find as much childish glee in looking as Dawn would.

She shook her head, trying to dislodge the thoughts and the gloomy feeling that had descended at their coming.

_From now on, _she decided, _no more Scoobies. No thinking 'bout them, no referencing them. They don't exist in this world and I no longer exist in theirs!_

The silent declaration hurt, like a stab in the gut, leaving her winded and gasping for air. She heard Harry asking if she was alright and nodded.

"I'll be fine as soon as we get out of here."

He nodded, thinking she meant the station and its hurly-burly. She'd feel better when she had left America behind, preferable an entire ocean behind.

When she was more composed they went to the information booth, Dawn thanking God that some thing carry over, where they found that they would have to take a train to New York, before making arrangements to get to London.

"You'll have to get a port key there, shouldn't take more than a week or so."

She got her ticket, an overnight bunk on the direct train, and went to the boarding platform where the train was waiting.

"Last chance to turn back," Harry warned her. Dawn just smiled and hoisted herself onto the train.

She took a seat in one of the carriages that left her facing forward as the train pulled out of the station.

She didn't look back. You never look back.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, its the property of one JK Rowling.

AN: Curse words below. Don't say I didn't warn you. (One word, repeated twice, nothing drastic.)

Ginny Weasley, Journal Entry

Its been three weeks. Three weeks since the funeral and Ron is still at home. I don't know what to do, how to help. Mum took me home from school yesterday just to see if he would respond to me, we were always so close growing up, the two youngest. It's just... He's so closed off. He doesn't even move around that much.

Bed, chair by the fireplace, bathroom, chair, bed. And the only reason he gets out of bed is because Mum drags him out of it. It's beginning to feel like he might as well have died that day as well.

He hardly eats, he's lost so much weight now he looks like a walking skeleton, only without the walking bit. Mum can only get him to eat a few mouthfuls before he's lost interest and ignores her pleas for him to eat just a little bit more. Pleading with him like he's a baby again and he won't eat for Mummy.

He's just given up.

Passive suicide.

Mum's tried to get him to talk, open up a bit and maybe he'd feel better. But he just stares at her and she leaves him alone. She can't stand looking at those unfamiliar eyes sitting in Ron's face. They're the same colour, the same earthy brown, but it's like all life has leached out of them.

It's like he's gone. Like he got up and left one day and forgot to take his body.

He's breathing but not living.

The light is on but nobody's home. Maybe if Hermione was here she'd be ablt to get through to him. But she's not here and Mum's all out of ideas. Dad was never good at these things.

Something has to be done.

Someone has to do something.

Looks like it's up to me.

Ginny put down the diary, her journal, she calls it because the word 'diary' hurt too much. Too much a reminder of _him_ to be friendly. The fact that she writes at all is a testament to her strength.

At least that's what her family say. But they don't know the whole truth.

They don't know the nights spent crying into her pillow or waking from nightmares knowing that there was someone in the darkness waiting to hold you till the shudders left your body and you could feel warm again. Or the hand that held hers when she couldn't sleep for fear of more nightmares. Tho one who made her a cup of hot chocolate in the kitchen when even laying in her bedroom was too hard. Sitting talking keeping the darkness at bay for her.

She swallowed against the memories. Even now, more than three years later, it still chilled something deep inside her to think of that time of her life.

He helped her when she needed him and now she would return the favour.

Ron was sitting by the kitchen fireplace when she walked in, like usual. His face was turned to the fire, staring unseeing at the dancing flames.

Mrs Weasley always had the fire going now, even thought the warmth of the summer had not yet faded away. It was lit to heat something colder than the weather.

Mrs Weasley was baking and chattering, to herself since Ron couldn't, wouldn't, listen.

Ginny stood in the doorway watching them for a moment. Ron, so far away it seemed like nothing could touch him. Her mother doing what she could to ease the silence, withing and without.

She walked up to Ron then and Mrs Weasley stopped talking.

She recognised that tall, still back, the straight form telling her in more than words that Ginny had had enough, and, more importantly, she was going to do something about it.

"Ron. Look at me." He didn't stir. "Ron! Look at me, now!"

Maybe it was the force of personality behind her words, or maybe it was that childish part of him that remembered how much he hated the shrill voice of his little baby sister trying to boss him about, that made him react even that little bit. Whatever it was, he turned to look at her, lifting his chin so that he could look up at her towering over him.

He had to have seen the blow coming, but he didn't move, didn't try to stop her.

It was a good slap. Ginny's hand hurt from the sheer force of it. Ron's head flew to the side and back, knocking against the back of the chair, giving his head a double blow.

He didn't move.

Ginny panted as if the effort had taken a lot out ot her. She stood tall, hands on her hips waiting for him to react, hoping he would react.

Slowly, he turned back to face her. His hair half covered his face so Ginny couldn't see his expression clearly, but he looked angry.

He reached up slowly and gently touched his lip. His fingers came away with blood.

Read, pearly drops clung to his fingertips. He stared at it like he'd never seen blood before.

Mrs Weasley let out abroken sob and he lifted his eyes to look at her. Even from where she stood she could see the tears in his eyes.

"He didn't bleed." He managed to choke out, looking at the floor as he said it. Mrs Weasey made a move as if to go to comfort him, but stopped herself.

Ginny knelt before him and gently brushed the hair from his eyes. He stared at her, his eyes no longer emotionless.

They blazed with such hot anger that Ginny thought he would burn from the inside out at their heat.

"He didn't bleed. He just twitched and twitched and... and you know it hurt like fuck... that it was tearing him up inside." He stared at his bloody fingertips. "There was no blood, he was so white, but there was no blood. And I couldn't touch him, couldn't hep. Fuck, Gin, he couldn't even scream and... and he just stopped moving. But... there was no blood. That's all I could think of. He couldn't be hurt that badly if he wasn't bleeding. I didn't think... I didn't... And then he was gone!" He sobbed, leaning heavily on Ginny.

"He died and I just watched it happen. We all just stood and stared 'cause we didn't think it could happen like that. The Boy who Lived. You know?"

Ginny nodded, her own eyes filled with tears.

"I know, I know," she said uselessly, grasping him by the shoulders, afraid he'd fall out of the chair adn into the fire.

"how could that happen, Gin? How could he do that? He left! He left me here alone. He went away and now I can't be there for him any more. We were meant to be together through thick and thin. Through everything that Voldemort could throw at him and us. And he just left like that."

He lifted his head to find his mother there with them.

"I don't understand, Mum!"

She shook her head.

"I don't understand either." She looked him dead in the eye. "Some things we're not meant to understand. We're not able to understand death as an abstract thing, how are we meant to understand it when it happens to someone we know."

She pulled them up from the floor.

"We just have to keep going." She gave Ginny a gentle push. "Put on the kettle, dear, I think we could all use a cup of tea," she said gently.


	4. Chapter 4

Dawn retreated to the cabin she'd gotten as it grew dark. The door was locked and she felt a bit better. She was beginning to feel tired and had been scared of falling asleep in the more public carriage. An inbuilt trait of self preservation, she supposed.

The cabin was small, just the bunk beds against one wall, and the door and the window. The bathrooms were just down the hall and Dawn had made sure she wouldn't need to use that during the night before she settled down.

Harry was standing by the window with his back to her and with a warning to him not to turn around she pulled her pjs out of her bag and changed. She jumped into bed then and pulled the blankets up to her chin, before telling him she was in. He didn't turn though and Dawn leaned over to see if he was ok. He was staring out the window watching the landscape pass so she assumed he was ok. She lay on her back then listening to the steady sound of the train, hoping the repetitive sound would lull her to sleep.

She'd never been on a train before, though, never mind a steam train, and she found that sleep didn't come easily. Coupled with the fact that it felt like her head was spinning, meant she just lay there staring at the underside of the top bed.

_What am I doing here?_ she wondered. _I'm on a magic train, with a ghost heading off to fight a wizard and almost certain death._

Her mind screamed this warning at her. Even with the heavy blankets over her she felt cold and she suddenly found that she was shivering and her teeth were chattering.

Harry finally turned away from the window.

"Are you alright? Are you cold?"

She shook her head, clamping her mouth closed. This stopped them chattering but only made her body shake even harder.

"Give me you hand."

She reached out and grabbed his hand. She heard him whisper something in Latin. Slowly a warmth spread from their interlinked fingers up her arm and through her body. The shivering stopped and Dawn could unclamp her mouth.

"Better?"

She nodded.

"What's wrong?"

She shook her head, unable to even form words as cold tears trickled down her cheeks and onto the pillow.

"You can tell me." He pleaded.

She shook her head again.

"It doesn't matter." She whispered.

"The hell it doesn't!" He exclaimed. "It matters! We're in this together, remember?"

She glared at him.

"What do you mean, 'in this together'?" You're already dead! You don't have anything to worry about!" she yelled. Even as the words left her mouth she knew she didn't mean them, but she didn't know how to take them back.

"Is that it? You're scared?" He said it softly, peering at her in the darkness.

"I'm fucking terrified!" She sobbed. "And I don't want to be. I don't. But I just keep thinking - What am I doing here? You know? I mean- I don't know magic. I can't do magic."

She could see him thinking hard.

"I just did a spell there," he said. "I wasn't thinking. I just did it. And it worked. Maybe…"

"What?"

"Maybe… Stand up," he ordered. He stood back as she climbed out of the bed. "Have you a pen or something in your bag?"

"I don't know," she said, but searched through the pockets. She found one and held it up for him to see.

"Put it on the floor." He held out his hand and she took it. "Now point to it and say Win-GAR-Dium Leve-OH-Sa." He said the words slowly.

"And what will that do?"

"Make the pen levitate. It's the first charm we learned in school."

She looked at the pen doubtfully. Then tightened her fingers 'round his.

"WIN-Gar-Dium Leve-OH-Sa." The pen didn't even twitch. She sighed in frustration.

"No. You have to stress the GAR not the WIN in it," he told her. "Try again."

"Win-GAR-Dium Leve-OH-Sa," the pen shot into the air hitting the ceiling. Dawns eyes widened in surprise.

Even Harry looked surprised.

"Whoo-hoo!" She went to the pen to look closer at it, breaking contact with Harry as she did so. The pen fell to the floor almost hitting her on the head. "Hey!"

"It must only work when we are touching. that's what I was thinking," Harry said. "Come here again."

She went back to him and took his hand again. He tried it.

"Win-GAR-Dium Leve-OH-Sa." The pen just lay there. "Oh, well." He smiled.

"What else can I do?"

He thought for a moment.

"Accio," he said. "Summoning charm. Be ready to catch it since you don't have a free hand."

She pointed.

"Accio!" She had to duck as the pen hurtled at her. "Argh!"

She looked up. The pen had hit the window point first and when Dawn looked closer she could see the small crack the pen had made as it hit. She shuddered, thanking God for such quick reflexes. Harry ran his finger over the tiny crack with a worried frown.

"I'm guessing that shouldn't be happening."

He shook his head.

"It's way too powerful," he told her. "You're way too powerful."

Dawn smiled.

"How is that a bad thing?"

"If you can control your magic? Yes!" Dawn looked sheepish. "We'll get you a wand and hopefully that will help. We normally use wand to conduct our magic." He frowned. "There's also the fact that we have to be holding hands for you to be able to do magic."

"I'd look pretty weird holding hands with thin air, wouldn't I?"

They laughed at the image. Then Harry stepped close to her.

"Here," he put his hand gingerly on the back of her neck, the only skin he could reach without compromising her arms again. She shivered.

"Cold?" He was standing very close to her now and even in the dark Dawn could see those startling green eyes of his. She nodded.

"Try, Evanesco. At the pen," he added hurriedly.

She pointed.

"Evanesco!" The pen disappeared. "That was meant to happen, right?"

He nodded, grinning.

"So it just has to be bare skin." She concluded. "That'll be ok, I suppose."

"Make you feel better?"

"Huh?" She forgotten she'd been upset. "Oh." She waved a dismissive hand. "Ya, tons better thanks."

"Good. Get some sleep. We get into New York early."

She looked at him suspiciously.

"You do know this is a steam train right? And that even still we wouldn't get into New York that early."

He just grinned.

"Don't you love magic?"


	5. Chapter 5

Dumbledore sat behind his desk and though he wouldn't admit it, he was fiddling with the items on his desk, quills, parchment, scrolls. Shuffling them back and forth. He also didn't like to admit, though he suspected some of his teachers realised, that he was worried. The sequence of events leading up to tonight troubled him, which was an understatement of the highest order.

Sirius was dead. Harry was dead and Neville Longbottom taking the blame for that. And the Wizarding World was out for blood. So far no one had leaked Neville's name to the press but Dumbledore figured it was only a matter of time. And then the Ministry would do something stupid, like try to press charges.

He picked up a piece of parchment on his table. He had his security against that. He glanced at the name at the bottom and smiled. Who'd have thought Percy Weasley would go against the Ministry like this. Well, maybe Miss Granger for one.

Maybe he'd ask one more favour of Mr Weasley in light of recent events.

And he should really give Professor Trelawney a raise.

Harry sat at the end of the bed staring out the window. Dawn was sleeping, a huddled figure in the middle of the bed, the bedcovers tangled around her, her shield against the rest of the world.

He couldn't figure it out. Why was she doing this? She didn't even know him and she was willing to travel halfway across the world on his say so. And she never faltered. Ok, once. But that had been sorted. The only other thing that had put her off was the floos. He grinned at that. That had nearly stopped the journey before it had begun. But she persevered.

So brave. She'd have been in Gryffindor, definitely, he thought.

He settled back against the wall, as much as he could anyway, and closed his eyes. He couldn't sleep, so he couldn't dream, but he could remember.

It was a few hours later, he wasn't sure how long, when a noise outside the door disturbed him. It was just a thud, but he was immediately on his guard. He waited, but the sound didn't come again. He was just settling down again when he heard something else. A scraping. He frowned. Like a key that didn't quite fit in the lock.

When he saw the doorknob rattle he muttered an oath under his breath.

"Dawn. Dawn, wake up," he whispered urgently, she stirred. "Wake up, there's someone trying to get in."

"Wha-." She swallowed thickly. "What's wrong?"

When he told her she jumped out of bed. She grabbed her backpack and pulled a dagger out of it just as the door swung open slowly.

She was standing behind the door as it opened so she couldn't see who it was, but as they stepped into the room she gave the door a huge shove and sent them sprawling.

The dark figure tumbled into the room and Dawn seized the advantage. She jumped on him and started hitting him. Not really caring where the blows landed, she was too angry that someone broke into her room to take notice of anything else. It was only Harry's warning that made her look up and over her shoulder.

The door was open again and a second person stood in the doorway. He waved his arm and she was thrown against the far wall.

"Magic!" Harry warned.

i No shit, Sherlock. /i

"What do I do?" She asked.

"Keep quiet. Don't move." The newest person in the cabin said, thinking she was asking him. "Anything we want, we take, got that.

"Take my hand." Harry was saying. She reached out and gripped his phantom limb. "We'll have to cast a spell on them. I don't know how well it will work, you're too powerful without a wand but we can try stunning them."

"Worth a shot." Dawn muttered, watching as the pair were going through her bag and looking under her bed.

"The spell is 'Stupefy'"

She pointed.

The taller raised his head.

"Where's your wand, little one?"

"Don't got one!" She told him. Then before he could say anything else she yelled, "Stupefy!"

There was a flash of red light and the man was thrown against the wall. The other one went for his wand, but Dawn was quicker.

"Stupefy!" A second flash and another thud as the second one was thrown against the wall.

"Now I have two men lying unconscious in my room." Dawn giggled.

She brought up her right hand still pointed, i like a gun/i , and laughing blew imaginary smoke off the top of her finger.

"The name's Summers, Dawn Summers," she said, a la Sean Connery, Bond style.

"You're weird, ya know?" Harry said. "Scary, but weird."

She'd managed to drag the unconscious bodies of her attackers down the corridor some ways and was now back in her cabin, making sure they hadn't actually taken anything.

"Though I really should have checked that first," she said aloud.

Harry nodded in agreement.

"Well?"

"Naw. I'd everything well hidden." She slumped back on the bed. "Does working magic usually leave you feeling tired?"

"No!" He said, surprised. "Not unless I've done a lot of magic."

"Hmm…" She pulled the blankets over herself. "Just me then." She yawned. "We're going to be alright about this port-key situation right?"

He shrugged.

"I don't know will they let a minor travel without parental permission."

She thought about that.

"We'll just have to lie about that bit then." She didn't give him time to argue. "Night, Harry." He sighed.

"Night, Dawn."

The train slowed as it entered New York Wizarding station and Dawn was waiting by the carriage door with her one bag as it came to a stop. Even so she had to wait for the porter to unlock the door before she could disembark.

The station was packed as before but she was too tired to look around as she followed Harry's lead through the station. She stopped at the information booth and got the name of a hostel she could stay the night at as well as finding out more about the methods of travelling to England.

They used the floos again to get to the hostel and Dawn paid for a night and dropped off her bag. She popped into the bathroom on her way down where Harry directed her to do a Confundus Charm on the information on the inside of her passport so nobody would look at it too closely.

She left the hostel then, exiting its dark interior into the harsh October light. She looked up and down the road, and sighed. The magic she'd done the night before had drained her more than she cared to admit and a half a nights sleep on a moving train and her latest charm hadn't helped much.

"Where to now?" She asked the, supposedly, empty air.

"We need to find out how to get to England. What did the man at the information booth say when you asked? I couldn't hear over the intercom announcements."

"We need to arrange an international port-key pass. Takes a day or so, depending on the country of choice. We've to head to the Bureau of International Affairs. Excuse me, sir," she reached out to stop a passing Wizard.

He hesitated, looking slightly surprised that one so young would dare stop him.

"I'm looking for the Department of International Affairs?"

"The corner of Hargrave and Shubert." He said and left.

"Right, now where is that?" she asked his retreating back. But this was New York, even if it was Wizarding New York and the yellow cabs that were one of the most recognised symbols of the Big Apple were driving the cobbled streets. She hailed one and asked where and how far.

"Two blocked over that way," the cabbie drawled, pointing. "Need a cab?"

"Thanks, I'll walk." He just nodded and drove off.

It only took her about twenty minutes and the walk warmed her up. The building was non-descript and old-looking with a nice brass plaque giving the name of the building and the year it was built. She followed the signs as she went, leading to the International Pass office and when she got there to the European destinations desk.

It was startlingly quiet when she got there and the clerk was surprised when she told him she wanted to go to England.

"Haven't you heard of the trouble there?" he asked. She frowned.

"Rouge Wizard," he explained.

"I still have to go." He shrugged and pulled out some forms.

"Not my place to stop you." He pushed the forms and a quill over to her. "I'll need some ID of course."

She pulled out her passport, gotten by her mother just before the divorce when they'd all talked about going abroad on holiday, and handed it over.

The clerk's eyes nearly popped out of his head.

"Muggle?" he gasped.

She felt a shiver down her spine as Harry placed his hand on her neck and begun whispering the correct responses to her.

"Muggle born," she said. But he was taking something, a clear glass ball, out of his desk drawer. Without saying anything he tossed it to her. And without thinking, she caught it.

A red light popped in the middle and the clerk sighed.

"Sorry about that, you have no idea how many Wiccans try to pass through here." Dawn stayed silent as she handed back the ball. "Just fill out those there and I'll go see what port keys we have left."

He left her alone to fill out the forms and Dawn let out a sigh of relief as he did. She filled out the form as quickly as she could, writing in her dad's name and address for next of kin, thinking even if he did get some sort of correspondence from the Department that he'd pass it off as spam and bin it.

When she got to the part where she had to fill in her date of birth she added a couple of years like Harry told her to do.

She'd filled in the form and had been waiting a while before the clerk came back. He was smiling when he did.

"It's your lucky day!" He held up a brass key-ring for her to see. "A businessman cancelled his port-key at the last minute. Normally it takes at least three days to get one approved, five over the weekend. As long as everything checks out," he glanced over her forms and passport, not taking too long examining them Dawn noticed, "looks good. Your port-key will activate at five oh five, Sunday evening, taking you to our counterparts in London."

Dawn nodded and stood. He handed her the port-key and she left the building, trembling at her success.

She woke early. The sunlight drifted through the window, blinding her as she opened her eyes.

"Wakey-wakey!" Harry's too-cheerful face came into her field of vision. She groaned, trying to bat him away ineffectively. "Come on, we've got a busy day. Have to find you a wand."

"What time's it?" She groaned.

"Ten. Time to get up!"

"Ahh!" Dawn tried to pull the covers over her head to hide from both Harry's and the sun's gaze but Harry slid his hands over her face and she jerked back from the coldness and fell out of bed.

"Ha!"

Dawn poked her head up over the bed and glared at him.

"You're unusually cheerful today," she growled at him.

"Well, we're nearly home free, right? We just have to wait for the opportune moment and POOF!"

Dawn looked worried now.

"But not literally 'POOF', right?"

Harry laughed and didn't answer her.

"Right?"

They'd been to three wand makers in the one afternoon and none of them had been able to find Dawn a single wand that suited her. Some hadn't done anything when she waved them, even with Harry helping her, most had reacted badly, very badly.

"This is the last one." Dawn said, staring at the run-down, shabby, shop front before her.

"Hey, don't judge a book by its cover," Harry said. "I got my wand in a place like this. Ollivanders. Used to think he could read my mind, because he knew my name when I walked in the door, you see." He chuckled. "Of course, everybody knew my name. Come on. It doesn't look that bad."

Dawn just spared him a malevolent glare before pushing open the door to 'Rushes - Finest Wands' and walking in.

A little bell tinkled as she entered but there was no reaction from the depths of the shop. She glanced around. As she'd come to expect now, the shelves were piled high with the thin cardboard boxes that housed the wands and, not so usually, above them was a balcony over looking the whole shop. There was no counter and Dawn thought the place reminded her of a second-hand bookshop. She walked along the narrow spaces between the shelves staring at the boxes but too afraid to even lift a finger to trace the air in front of the boxes.

And still she hadn't seen anybody. She could feel a presence though, could almost feel the curious stare watching her. She glared round but didn't see anyone and she didn't dare question Harry.

She stopped when she heard a voice.

"Pick one."

"What?" she stared up at the balcony above her. At the leftmost corner stood who she presumed was the storekeeper. He was younger than she expected, wearing a Muggle suit unlike the other Wizards she'd seen on the street who'd worn robes. "Mr Rushes?"

He nodded.

"Pick one," he told her again. She reached up her hand for the nearest box to her. "Not that one."

She glared at him but he only smiled and moved closer to her, trailing his hand along the banister.

"Feel the wand. After all haven't you been told by now that the wand chooses the witch, not the other way around. No," he held up his hand, Dawn froze, he wasn't looking at her. "Let her do it on her own," he said, looking straight at Harry, who had been about to place his hand along the base of her neck.

Dawn gasped.

"Find your wand, Ms. Summers," he said gently. She took a moment to calm herself. She didn't look back at Harry nor up at the wizard above, just moved slowly through the store, stopping once or twice but barely lifting her hand before shaking her head and moving on. Eventually she stopped. The boxes in front of her didn't look any different than the others but there was something, something right… right… there!

She pulled out one of the boxes and stepped back, jumping when the older wizard spoke from beside her.

"Good choice." He smiled. "A most unusual wand. Oak, 9 inches, with three drops of a Slayers blood, given willingly, bound with a hair from a vampires head. Also given willingly." He glanced up from under his eyebrows. "I've had this one for almost thirty years."

He slid the box apart and held it out for her. Hesitatingly, she reached into the box and pulled out the caramel coloured wand.

It fit.

It met every groove of her hand and as she waved it through the air she was rewarded with a soft sparkle of stars and a warm feeling spreading up her arm in response to the magic.

"Just remember, the wand chooses the witch, and always, it chooses for a reason." He took her through to the back where she paid and he sold her a wand holster, specially fitted.

She thanked him for his help and was about to ask how'd he seen Harry when he cut her off as if he knew what she was going to ask.

"Be careful who you talk to," he said, glancing towards Harry. "And trust your instincts."

With that he shooed her out of the shop. She stared in through the window but he walked away to the back of the shop again and he didn't look back.

"What, do you suppose, that was about?"

Harry just returned her astonished look with one of his own.

When Neville's Grandmother finally let him go to his room it had gotten dark outside and Neville couldn't see the neat drills in the herb garden anymore. He'd had a shower and was laying on his bed, trying to ignore the stabbing pains in his lower back and thighs from digging. Sure he was grateful to his Gran for keeping him occupied, it meant there was less time to brood on the forthcoming Monday when he be back in classes, but did it have to be such backbreaking work?

Now, though, with the silence of the body came the tumult of the mind. He wondered what the Ministry had released in the aftermath of one of the most controversial inquests of the century. He couldn't even check what the papers said because, like many others, his Gran had cancelled her subscription to the Daily Prophet since it became a tool of the Ministry, rather than of the people.

So he was left to ponder what would happen next. Would they know at school that he'd killed their most favoured class mate? Would they shun him like a pariah? Dumbledore had made it clear he was still welcome at the school, but would he feel that way come Monday morning? And what about Hermione? And Ron?

He sighed, pulling himself off the bed with a groan and pushing open the window. He leaned out a took a gulp of night air. The night blooming jasmine he'd convinced his Gran to plant, despite its purposes being purely aesthetic, perfumed the air. In the distance he could see the glow of the lights of London, like a beacon.

Feeling better, he left the window open as he lay on his bed and, gradually as his mind stopped turning over the possibilities, he fell asleep.


	6. Chapter 6

Dawn stumbled as she came to a stop. A firm hand steadied her, asking her if she was ok, as she doubled over wondering if all Wizarding types of transport made you lose your stomach half-way through and how the average Wizard put up with it. She straightened up and took a few deep breaths.

"I'm sorry about this," the voice said again.

"Not your fault," she said generously, eyes still tightly closed.

"No, I mean, I'm going to have to ask you to move this way. We have another incoming in about a half a minute," he said again.

"Right." She allowed him to move her a few feet as another voice, this one female called out, "Twenty seconds".

She felt a hand on her shoulder pushing her down and allowed herself to be manhandled into a seat.

"Put your head between your legs, I've heard some say that helps." She heard him move away, she assumed to help someone else when they arrived and bent over. She felt a breath of air by her ear and opened her eyes. Harry was kneeling before her looking worried, but when she tried to reassure him, he put his finger to his lips and looked around nervously. She nodded. After a few deep breaths she sat up.

The nausea had faded and she felt much better. Someone else was being helped over to the seats by a friendly-looking man in plain black robes. They looked as shaken as she felt and she felt somewhat less embarrassed as it looked like everyone suffered the same.

The official smiled at her.

"Better?"

She nodded. He smiled and glanced up at a previously unseen counter.

"How long?"

The woman glanced at some paperwork before her.

"Take fifteen," she told him.

"I'm going to grab a cup of tea," he told her. "Want anything?" The woman shook her head, still going through the paperwork.

"Well, I'm parched," he looked at Dawn. "Would you like something to drink. It'll help you feel better?"

She nodded weakly.

"Best show your paperwork, before we go."

Dawn handed in her papers and flashed her passport and followed him out of the room.

"I'm Alfibrus Lotington, call me Alfi" he said holding out his hand. She shook it even as they walked. He led her to a cafeteria and bought her a cup of hot chocolate when she asked before leading her to a table away from the main crowd.

"You're American, right?" She nodded, sipping the hot chocolate. He peered at her, eyes twinkling in amusement. "Am I going to get your name?"

"Dawn." She gave him with a little smile. Harry was just off to her right, looking a bit worried, but it wasn't like she could ask what was the matter in front of 'AlfI'.

"Nice name, business or pleasure?" He was smiling, but Dawn could feel more than a friendly inquisitiveness in his question.

"Visiting family," she lied. He smiled.

"Ya? Is it your first time in Britain?"

She nodded.

"Are they close by?"

Now she smiled.

"I just came from America, so relatively, yes!"

He actually laughed at that one.

"All right, I'll leave you alone. Are you feeling better?" She nodded. "Alright. Lets take you up to the reception area. We've floos there if you're up for them."

They left the room and we're on their way down the corridor when he glanced at his watch.

"Damn. I'll be late. It's just up that way, turn left and it's on your right." He shook her hand again. "Good luck."

"Bye." She waved at him. She turned to Harry. "What was that about?"

"I don't know. But I don't like it." He frowned at the retreating back.

_Dear Professor Dumbledore,_

_My name is Alfibrus Lotington, I work in International Travel. A friend of mine told me about your query and asked that I keep you informed. A person passed through here today at five ten that would fit your description. _

_Young tourist, travelling alone, says it's her first time visiting Britain. Miss Dawn Summers, American, 15 years old, though she had charmed her passport to say different, our official noticed straight away, I don't know how our American counterpart didn't see it. She was unaccompanied and has since taken a room at the Leaky Cauldron. _

_I'd say Muggle-born, form her clothes and passport, she carried a wand tucked into her sleeve._

_I hope this letter finds you well and the information within helps you._

_Yours,_

_Alfi_

Sunday at the Leaky Cauldron was busy with Sunday shoppers. Dawn managed to get the attention of the barman by the simple expedient of jumping up and down waving her arms.

Tom grinned his toothless grin at her.

"Are you alright, little Miss?"

"I got tired of waiting," she explained. Then asked before he could interrupt, "have you a room for the night."

"Aye, Miss." He pulled a book from under the counter. "Sign here and I'll get you a key."

She signed her name, a barely legible scrawl and he handed her over a shiny brass key.

"Number 11 Up the stairs and down to the left," he told her. She thanked him and went up the stairs and into her room.

"I'm sick of travelling!" She moaned. "And I'm sick of bloody hotel rooms and other people sheets!"

She threw down her bag and screeched when she heard a voice.

"There's nothing wrong with these sheets!"

She looked around nervously but didn't see anyone. She glared at Harry who was laughing.

"Care to share the joke?"

"It's the mirror," he wheezed.

"Huh," she peered into the mirror and gaped when her own reflection spoke.

"It's never that bad," it said in a kindly tone. She shuddered in horror and turned the mirror around.

"I never want to see that again!" She exclaimed.

Harry just kept laughing.

"Hermione's stayed as well did you stay?" Ron was fixing his collar in front of the mirror, spending more time than necessary on his appearance, Ginny thought. i After all, Hermione already knows what he looks like anyway. But at least he'd gotten his hair cut yesterday in Diagon Alley and Mum even splashed out on a new sweater, blue, which does look nice on him. /i

"She got in late last night, Mum said, that's why we didn't see her." Ginny told him. They two had stayed in the Leaky Cauldron that Sunday night in preparation for going back to school on the train that morning. "Neville's here as well."

Ron turned to look at her.

"Why was Neville off?"

Ginny looked busy with one of the ties on her trunk as she thought about the answer to that one.

"He had to be at the inquest," she said. Ron looked up from the mirror at that. He didn't turn to look at her but she could see the see his eyes tighten at that.

"What did they say? Did they say how…" He coughed gruffly and turned away.

"They ruled it an accident." She muttered. She could see Ron's shoulders stiffen at the slur to his friend, but he took a few deep breaths.

"Why did Neville have to be there then."

That was the bit that Ginny had been dreading. She stared at his back for a few moments, trying to think of a way out of answering. He waited.

i He's going to find out eventually /i , she thought resignedly.

"They're saying that it was a mistake of Neville's that caused it.

He turned suddenly and looked at her incredulously.

"What?"

She shrugged.

"That's ridiculous!"

She sighed in relief.

"Nobody really believes it," she said. "But that's what they printed in the paper."

Ron gaped.

"They didn't name Neville, did they?" he asked, horrified at the idea. Everybody in the Wizarding World would shun Neville if they thought he had been the cause of the demise of their boy hero.

Ginny shook her head.

"What are we going to do, Ginny?" Ron asked, dropping onto the nearest bed.

She didn't answer him, just sat beside him, putting an arm around his shoulder and waited until he was ready to face the world again.

"Let's go down for breakfast, then." They left the trunks and headed downstairs. Hermione was already there and she spotted them straight away, waving them over.

"How are you?" She stared intently into Ron's face as if she could she the last few weeks of suffering written on there.

i Maybe she can/i Ron thought ruefully as he took a seat opposite her.

"I'm ok," he told her and she accepted it, knowing that none of them would be really ok for a long time yet.

"I've ordered breakfast for the four of us, Neville should be down in a few minutes." She pulled out a slip of paper from her pocket then. Leaning over Ron could see, with an inward wince, that it was their school timetable. "We've missed a lot of work since we've been back so I asked Professor McGonagall to draw us up a special timetable to catch us up." Ron exchanged a smile with Ginny. "We're missing our Monday morning classes so they're being rescheduled for Wednesday afternoon just for this week."

Ron stopped listening as he glanced around the dim interior of the pub. The place was mostly empty, as could be expected on a Monday morning, except for an old man in the corner and a young girl sitting on her own at a booth opposite who looked away blushing when he caught her eye. She sat staring resolutely down at her table then and Ron was discomfited to realise that she seemed to be talking to herself.

He was reminded of the time in second year when Harry could hear the voice that nobody else could.

i Even in the Wizarding World, hearing voices that nobody else can hear is a bad sign, Harry!" Hermione said worriedly. /i

He looked away, startled at the strange prompt for this memory. He looked back just in time to see Hermione stop talking. He looked over his shoulder, following her gaze to see Neville had come down the stairs and was stopped just inside the room.

Ron came to a decision there and then. He stood, shoving the chair back almost violently and started over to where Neville stood quivering.

"Ron!" Hermione called, frightened.

Ron stood within arms reach of Neville and spoke low and furiously.

"I don't care what anybody else says, or does, what the Ministry has put out or anything," he gasped. "I don't believe a word of it. You were Harry's friend and that's all that matters."

Neville shook, tears springing up in his eyes. He nodded his thanks and allowed Ron to pull him over to the table with Hermione and Ginny who both quietly 'dittoed' what Ron said.

"Ready to get back to school?" Ginny asked in an attempt at normal.

"Yea!" Ron nodded. "Hermione has our study timetable already drawn up."

The food arrived then and Neville was saved the horror of trying to answer that question as they tucked in.

Dawn's food had arrived at the same time as the others were tucking into their breakfast so she could pretend to be busy and pretend she wasn't talking to herself. She also avoided looking at Harry who was staring at the other table with a wistful look.

"I wonder what's wrong with Neville, I've never seen Ron get that angry," he mused abstractly. Dawn sneaked a peek. The dark-haired boy sitting at the other table was picking at his food. Pushing the pieces around on his plate, not actually eating any of it.

None of them looked happy. The busy-haired girl was frowning round at everyone, nobody in particular, but just like she couldn't get that look off her face. And the red-headed ones just looked angry.

"They miss you," she said, trying to move her lips as little as possible.

"I just wish I could-"

Dawn stared at him.

"Oh, Harry, I'm sorry." She reached out to pat his hand. "I didn't really think how difficult this would be for you."

He wrapped his fingers round hers and smiled. Dawn felt that usual chill she did whenever Harry touched her. Then he glanced up.

"Oops."

Dawn looked to the table opposite where the four friends had stopped eating to stare openly.

The busy-haired girl, i Hermione /i , she remembered, managed to look embarrassed at being caught but held her gaze defiantly. Ron looked along the table thoughtfully and for a moment Harry's heart skipped a beat, or would have if it still beat, when for a second Ron seemed to hold his gaze.

He shook it off then and glanced at his wrist. They stood then, gathering up their things and left then table and the room.

"I wonder why they're here in the first place," Harry wondered. Dawn looked up as the barman, Tom, came over to clear up the table, as he passed her she caught his sleeve.

"'Scuse me, sir, who were those teenagers, over there."

"Hogwarts students, Miss Summers," he told her.

"That's what I thought," she said with an artfully contrived puzzled expression on her face. "Shouldn't they be in school?" But Tom was wilier than he looked and just nodded.

"Aye, that they should, Miss," he said, a little sadly Dawn thought. He walked off then and left her alone with no more answers than she had before.


	7. Chapter 7

AN: Remember Mr Rushes in New York? I explain how he can see Harry in this installment... and I would love comments as to what you think of that explaination!

ooo

Her breakfast had been cleared away and Dawn had propped her elbows on the table and laid her face in her hands. She was bone tired. All her travelling in the last few days had her wiped and whatever surge of adrenaline had been taking her through was gone now, evaporated into thin air.

Harry was beside her, leaning back into the seat, as much as a ghost is able to lean anyway, with his eyes closed. She'd noticed in the last few days that whenever she was asleep, or dozing like now, he often imitated her, she'd have to ask him why, it was strange. Which was why neither of them saw the elderly wizard appear in the fireplace or, after a gesture from Tom, walk their way.

"May I join you for a moment?"

Dawn jerked out of her doze.

"Huh?"

He seemed to take that as acceptance because he took the seat opposite without further ado. Without glancing at him, she could see Harry's eyes widen and his lips mouthed one word.

"I hope I'm not intruding?" he gently inquired.

"No, not at all," she said quickly, then added, though Harry had pretty much spelled it out for her, "who are you?"

He nodded, eyes twinkling.

"Yes, yes of course. Constant vigilance, as a friend of mine always says." He held out a pale hand. "Albus Dumbledore, at your service."

Dawn shook his hand, taking in his attire with a sweep of her eyes. He reminded her of a butterfly with the bright colours and the shiny buttons of his robes.

"Dawn Summers." He nodded and Dawn suddenly felt that it was for show, he knew who she was, had probably come here because he'd known she was here. She glanced over her shoulder at the bar counter and found Tom in the act of turning away. She glared at him before turning back to the wizard before her.

"A most apt conclusion, Miss Summers," he said, a small smile on his face, "however I was informed of your arrival long before Tom sent his owl."

Dawn just leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms and scowling at him.

"I have friends in International Travel who informed me of your arrival yesterday. The unaccompanied travel of a minor across international boundaries is a serious offence," he told her sternly. "Especially when said minor has tampered with official documents."

Dawn blushed.

"What's it to do with you, anyway? You're just a teacher!" Too late she realised her mistake. Dumbledore raised his eyebrows at her remarks.

"And how does an American muggle-born know the schooling system in a country she has never been to before? I did not think my fame had spread that far," he said, mockingly. Dawn just stared at him in shock, unable to think of a reasonable excuse. Harry stayed silent beside her, too aware of the penetrating eyes of his old Headmaster.

"You must be wondering why, though, a simple school teacher like myself, would be interested in such visitors, like yourself?" She nodded, dumb. "A great and terrible accident took away one of my students not too long ago," Dawn fought not to even glance at Harry, "and I suppose you could say I'm seeking his replacement." His gaze, if possible, turned even more penetrating. "You know of what I speak?"

Dawn mouthed wordlessly for a few seconds before she regained motor function.

"Can you see him?" she whispered. Dumbledore shook his head regretfully.

"Indeed, I do not have that gift," he answered. "A select few, maybe two, three people in the world, besides yourself, will be able to see him."

"How? I mean… I know why I can see him… But those other? How can they?" In her mind she was picturing Mr Rushes speaking directly to Harry back in the wand store.

"There used be a legend among Muggles that the seventh son of any man will be a wizard. Among wizards there is a legend that the seventh son of any man will be a Seer. There has only been one documented case. Mostly the seventh son is no different than any of his brothers. No noticeably better or worse in talent." He smiled at her. "Like I said, it is but a legend."

Dawn was silent for a few minutes. When she spoke again, she kept her eyes firmly on the table.

"So, what now?"

"I have taken responsibility for you, from the International Travel Department, and so you will attend Hogwarts where we will converse more on what is expected of you."

"And if I disagree?" She wouldn't of course, but she was curious. His eyes lost their twinkle and Dumbledore looked every inch his age.

"Then you will be deported back to America and the Wizarding World will lose any hope they have of surviving the coming war."

She should have remembered what happened the curious cat in the tale and kept her mouth shut.

"Dumbledore!" The moment was, thankfully, lost at the interruption by the four students who had left only a few minutes ago. They had returned laden with coats and bags, ready for their journey back to Hogwarts. The red-haired boy led them over to the table.

"Mr Weasley!" Dumbledore exclaimed, as though he hadn't expected to see them. "Good to see you! All better I hope?"

Ron nodded, blushing.

"Miss Weasley, Miss Granger." He nodded to the two girls before turning his gaze to the dark-haired boy trying to hide at the back. "Mr Longbottom, good to see you all ready to return to school. And looking so happy about it!" He laughed. He gestured to Dawn across from him.  
"Allow me to introduce Miss Dawn Summers, Miss Summers will be joining us at Hogwarts for the foreseeable future. No," he held up a quelling hand, "no questions for Miss Summers just yet, I will explain all soon enough." He stood. "Now, I'm sure you realise there is a car waiting outside for you. Miss Summers will just gather her things and will join you outside. I myself have business to take care of with Tom, if you'll excuse me."

He swept them aside cutting off any questions they may have and left them alone together.  
Dawn opened her mouth to speak but saved from having to do so by Ginny's interruption.

"Come on, get your things out to the car. Ron, will you take my bag, I'll help Dawn." She shoved her bag into Ron's arms and nudged them towards the door, none too gently. They left, Ron grumbling all the way. Ginny smiled at Dawn then. "Sorry about that, but when they start asking questions there's no stopping them and you looked a bit overwhelmed."

Dawn grinned back.

"Thanks, am…" Dumbledore hadn't specified her first name and Dawn had learned from her last mistake.

"I'm Ginny," she said, leading the way to the stairs. They got Dawn's bag and came back down, where Dawn stopped by the counter to pay. Ginny waited patently by the door as Tom approached.

"Ah, Miss Summers, checking out?" He said with a smile. Dawn glared at him, still not happy that he'd snitched on her. She nodded pulling out some cash. He stopped her with a gesture. "Professor Dumbledore paid your check. Also," he reached under the counter and pulled out a pouch which clinked merrily when he set it on the counter, "the money you asked to be changed for you." Dawn looked at him puzzled.

"Wha-"

"Professor Dumbledore said he'd see you at the school," he cut in with a warning look. It was a password, Dawn was sure of that. If only someone had told her what it was a password for she might understand better. But she accepted the money pouch without further question and put it into her bag as Tom nodded encouragingly at her.

"Thanks, and bye!" He waved her out the door.

Ginny took her bag off her outside the door and put it carefully into the open trunk. Then, smiling opened the car door and went into the dim interior ahead of her. The car must have been bigger than a normal one, Dawn supposed, because even with Ron in the front passenger seat, there was plenty of room for the four others in the back.

The ride to the station was quiet. The Hogwarts students were quiet because, being curious about the new student they wanted to ask questions, but having promised Dumbledore they'd leave her alone, they couldn't ask them. Dawn was quiet because she was worried. Harry was sitting in the small space between the two front seats and even for a ghost, Dawn though, he looked pale. He was staring between the students in front of him and the boy beside him and Dawn could almost feel him willing them to see him.

It almost seemed to be working in Ron's case. He kept glancing over his shoulder just after Harry had looked at him, as if feeling the unnatural stare.

Added to that Dawn wasn't sure a wizard car driving through Muggle London counted as the Wizarding World and Willow was more than likely still looking for her. The only thing she could think was that at least they probably thought she was still in America.

When they had gotten to the train station and were preparing to go through the barrier Harry finally snapped out of it long enough to remember to place his hand on the back of her neck. Dawn sighed in relief, she'd been unable to remind him herself and had been worried what would happen when she came to going through the barrier. She was so relieved she even forgot to shiver at the cold. She was so used to it anyway it was starting to make no difference to her.

The platform beyond the barrier was eerily quiet after the bustle of the Muggle station and the students boarded the train quickly filling up one carriage together. Dawn took one of the window seats with Hermione opposite and Ginny beside her. Ron sat down beside Hermione with a faint blush. Neville, though sat as close to the door as he could and still be in the same carriage. Dawn saw Hermione throw Neville a worried glance as the train took off.


	8. Chapter 8

As the last days of school drifted to a close, Draco found himself dreading the summer holidays. He had a number of reasons for this: not least of these was the realisation that he would face a summer of just he and his mother, entertaining themselves with ideas of their third's suffering in Azkaban. He sighed and glanced over to one of the beds by the windows.

It was long empty, it occupant fully healed and removed to where he need not suffer he endless stares all day. She was stuck trying to torment him at dinner or breakfast and even that time was drawing to a close. Not before time he thought. He begun to feel a little more the comfortable in her presence and that was unacceptable in his eyes.

He shook his head and tried to concentrate on his task, which at the moment was storing Madam Pomfrey's Pepper-up Potion. Snape had made a large batch of the stuff but had left it to him to bottle and label it. It was easy, if tedious work, since each vial had to be to an exact measurement and so required a certain amount of concentration.

He didn't look up when he heard the doors of the hospital wing open, many student came to the nurse for last minute remedies he'd found, and they didn't like Draco watching them as they talked to her, even if he couldn't hear. However, a polite cough near him made him look up.

"Ah, Mr Malfoy, how industrious of you," Dumbledore said, nodding to him. Draco wasn't the least bit startled to see him, he'd expected a visit from the headmaster before the summer was out, he concentrated on filling the last vial before he replied.

"Thank you, sir," he replied quietly.

"How has your time passed? Well I hope?" Dumbledore peered at him over his half-moon glasses.

"I've been kept busy," Draco hedged.

"Good, good." He went on quickly then. "May I see the hour-glass please?"

Draco pulled it from inside his robes, where he kept it around his neck on its chain. He pulled the chain over his head and handed it to Dumbledore who examined curiously.

"Hmmm, well, I estimate that you have completed nearly 35 hours since you were sent here," Dumbledore mused.

"Nearly 38," Draco corrected, he'd been counting. Dumbledore gave a little smile.

"Yes, well, as agreed you will be completing your work at St. Mungos during the summer. You will start there on the first of next month. Please report to Mr Crepsley when you get there." He handed Draco a green sock with orange trimming, Draco looked at it in distaste. "That is your port-key to and from work. It activates at five to nine in the morning precisely and will bring you back to wherever you port-keyed from next time you touch it."

He seemed to be waiting for Draco to say something then.

"Thank you?" That didn't seem to be it, but Dumbledore let it go.

"Good luck, Mr Malfoy." He stared at something behind Draco. "Looks like I'm not the only one who wishes to speak to you, so I'll say good day."

He left then before Draco good get a reply out. He turned then to see who has come in while he'd been speaking with the headmaster. To his surprise it was Hermione, standing just inside the door, looking like she had only just realised what a bad idea it had been to come to him.

"What do you want?" He didn't so much as frown at her but she flinched.

"I… I just wanted, I mean. Thank you," she finally managed.

"For what?" he asked, surprised.

"You helped me, when I was in here. You helped me when you didn't have to and more often than you needed to," she said all this in a rush, as if the faster she got the words out the easier it would be.

"Don't mention it." He did growl at her this time.

"No, really I mean it."

"So do I."

Hermione bowed her head and Draco could see her wringing her hands.

"Well, that's what I had to say," she mumbled.

"Duly noted," he said sarcastically before standing up from the preparation table and turning his back on her. He heard the door open and close as she left and watched, emotionless, as golden grains of sand flew up the hourglass, now left on the table, adding more time to the work he would have to complete.

His homecoming was oddly ceremonial. His mother greeted him in the huge foyer of the mansion, taking his hands in hers and kissing both cheeks, addressing him as Lord Malfoy and welcoming him home in a strangely proud voice. The appropriate reply came naturally to him, though he said it in a hollow voice.

He'd been educated in the courtly manners and repertoire since he was five years old and had always known that he would take over his title when he came of age, he just hadn't expected that it would come to him like this.

His father imprisoned, his mother… Her gaze were distant, far-seeing, and her pupils dilated. He been in the hospital wing long enough to recognise some of the effects of sedative potions.

Ceremony over, she wandered off, leaving him to bring his trunk up to his rooms on his own. With the loss of their house-elf in his second year at Hogwarts and the loss of their human servants with the seizing of the Malfoy assets, Draco and his mother were left to fend for themselves.

They were lucky to have the house, but since that had passed directly to Draco along with the title of Lord of the Manor, the Ministry couldn't touch it. Along with the money Narcissa had inherited from her father, who had left Draco the property and title, they would manage till either Lucius was cleared of all charges or Draco came of legal age and could claim the full of his inheritance money.

Draco carried his trunk easily up to the second floor landing where his room was located, Quidditch training and menial labour in the hospital wing over the last few weeks had added to his physique and unpacked his clothes without remark. His one thought was of what his father would say if he could see his only son now.

But the days following his return home and before his due date for starting in Mungos passed slowly. His mother had grown paranoid in light of recent events, and what ever potion she was taking 'for her nerves' had only added to that, and would hardly let Draco out the door of the house. Being cooped up indoors on warm sunny days in a house that never seemed to heat was not the way Draco like to spend his time.

He even tried keeping busy by starting his summer homework, sitting in one of the many leather armchairs in his Fathers library, gazing longingly at the books he still could not touch.

Mungos never changed. Or so Draco surmised, as at four minutes to nine his garish port-key had deposited him in the reception. Still busy, and full of sick people.

He sighed, quickly followed by as grimace as he decided, punishment or no, he would not be late, Malfoys hadn't kept their good name through the years because of their looks, well not only their looks anyway. They were impeccable businessmen to the core and were never late, their only fault was linking themselves with supposedly infallible 'Dark Lords'.

He hurried to the reception desk and joined the queue of three to ask to be pointed to the Office of Mr Crepsley, then following the directions given by the bored clerk he soon found himself outside the office of Mr Crepsley, knocking on the door.

So his surprise, Draco found working with the Healers in St. Mungos more satisfying than he'd expected. He lucky to find himself doing more than just 'grunt work' as the younger Healers, only a few years out of Training College themselves, took delight on pressing their knowledge on the young Hogwarts student and he was often brought on their rounds of the wards, learning more about Magical Maladies than he ever thought possible.

In contrast his home life had turned even colder. His mother, completely addicted to the sedative potions she was imbibing, had taken to her room and rarely left, and when she did he found her completely disconcerted by her surroundings. She would call for her house elf and then become enraged when he wouldn't show up.

The absence of Lucius greatly disturbed her. Draco found himself covering up his absence by saying her was away on business. He hated himself for lying to her and hated himself more for being unable to help her.

He threw himself into his work, almost being disappointed every evening when he had to go home. He soon achieved a reputation for being the most hardworking student there, and he wasn't yet a Healer. He was approached by Mr Crepsley after nearly three weeks was up and his time at the hospital was coming to a close.

And when Mr Crepsley offered him a place there for the rest of the summer he quickly accepted.

"Mother? Mother?" he knocked loudly on her bedroom door, movement hampered by the dinner tray he was carrying. He sighed loudly when he heard no sign of movement inside. He put the tray on the floor and opened the door, before entering tray in hand to find an empty room.

"Mother?" The room was the mess he'd come to expect in the last few weeks and her bathroom door was left open, but the entire suite was in darkness. Draco put the tray on a side dresser and muttered the charm to activate the lights. He called again before he started to get worried.

He checked the bathroom to no avail before he started walking down the hall checking all the rooms. Within fifteen minutes he was panicking. He hadn't seen her since he'd left that morning so she could have had hours to get well and truly lost.

Hours passed and he found no sign of her. He'd checked all over the house, even the kitchens before summoning his broomstick and flying all over the grounds off the Manor before finally accepting that she was nowhere to be found and he would have to call for help. He trudged back to the house and pushed the open door back.

He wasn't paying much attention as he walked into the drawing room and a cool voice startled him out of his daze.

"Hello, Draco." He looked up, startled, into the dark, wide-eyed gaze of Bellatrix Lestrange. She smiled widely at him. "My, how you've grown. I haven't seen you since you were a baby." She moved closer to him, arms wide as if to huge him, but he moved back out of reach.

"Now, Draco," a deep voice reproached him, "that's no way to greet family."

Draco turned sharply as Rodolphus Lestrange came in the open doorway behind him.

"What do you want?" he asked, barking out the words.

Rodulphus tut-tutted.

"That's no way to talk to family, now is it Draco?"

"The Dark Lord wishes to see you," Bellatrix told him, in the manner of one delivering great news. Draco swallowed past the lump of terror in his throat.

"And if I were to refuse. It's not exactly polite to break into someone's house you know!"

"But Draco," Bellatrix purred, "we were invited in. Didn't you wonder where you're dear mother had gotten to?" She eyed the broomstick he'd dropped when she had startled him. "She is waiting for you Draco."

Again Draco was forced to swallow past a lump in his throat as he struggled to breathe. He nodded at his wild-looking aunt.

"Ok," he said. "I'll come."


	9. Chapter 9

Draco lay sprawled, facedown, on the cold stone floor unable to move. He managed a cough, a deep, racking, cough, that left him spitting blood when he'd finished. He felt numb, which was a blessing: he couldn't yet feel the throbbing mass of raw nerve endings that was his body.

A rat scuttled in the corner of the dungeon he was currently occupying and he closed his eyes to avoid looking at the blood red eyes that chillingly reminded him of the _thing_ that had nearly ended his life a few hours ago with no warning of what had been about to happen. He felt like giving up, holding his breath till he passed out and whatever else lay in the darkness waiting could come and claim him. But the knowledge that his mother was, possibly, out there somewhere in the hands of those people…

He kept breathing.

ooo

Time passed as it does. Hours must have passed. Draco had passed out into the darkness of sleep and when he woke he was somewhat surprised to do so. He could move now. He pushed himself up off the floor onto his knees. He grunted against the pain, he wouldn't scream, he couldn't scream, then waited patiently until the dizziness passed.

It took some time to work through the pain and nausea but he managed to work through it and stood. All his limbs worked: there were no broken bones anyway, though every movement was a testament to the long-term effectiveness of the Cruciatus curse. He stood waiting, blood pounding in his ears and he didn't have long to wait.

He could soon hear footsteps on the hard stone floor in the hall, then the rasping of the key in a long disused lock before the heavy oak door was pushed open on protesting hinges. Draco winced at the stereotypicalality of it.

The face that greeted him was one he did not want to see ever again. Bellatrix Lestrange smiled widely to see him standing defiantly in the middle of the damp dungeon. If she had known what that simple act cost him she mightn't have been so proud.

She didn't speak, just stood back to let him pass her into the hall, where a robed Death Eater stood waiting, wand out, to be his escort. Draco wondered just what they thought he could do, wandless as he was, that they were taking all these precautions with him. Bellatrix walked ahead, leading the way, and the unnamed figure followed after gesturing for him to go ahead.

Every step he took was a lesson in pain until he could feel the darkness begin to encroach on his vision. The stopped moving in time. His breath came swift, though he suffered more for trying to keep it quiet, until his vision cleared once more and he could see where he was.

His heart stopped beating in his chest.

He'd been lead into the same huge hall as the night before. The crowd seemed to have swelled even more, frightened by the Dark Lords torture of the son of one of his 'favoured' into an even greater piety. They lined the walls, nearly twenty down and three deep. Voldemorts power was indeed great to have amassed such numbers within only two months of 'coming out', as it were.

Voldemort sat on the huge throne, there was no other word for the huge seat chiselled in black stone, where he looked down on his subject before him. He beckoned one taloned finger and Draco was nudged forward. He walked down the people-made path, head held high, ever the Malfoy.

This seemed to please the _thing _watching him. A _thing_ because nothing human had ever had lidless slits for eyes and a gash where he mouth should be. And while the whole effect was reptilian, Draco had never known a reptile to project such an air of menace, of evil.

When he stood before the raised dais on which Voldemort held throne he stopped. There was a beat where Voldemort surveyed him, as a snake does a mouse, Draco supposed.

Draco couldn't hold his gaze for long and look away. Because of this he missed the gleam of triumph on his fathers masters, for lack of a better word, face.

"I have a job for you Draco." The addressed looked up, supremely surprised. After his treatment the day before he hadn't expected anything like this. "And I hope you won't fail, like your father before you. Or I shall have to find someone to punish. Even if you have evaded my grasp."

Draco gasped.

"Mother?"

"Your father is not so far from my control either." Voldemort smirked. "Do you accept this last chance to redeem the family name and honour?" The threat was barely veiled and Draco knew he had no other choice if he wanted his mother to get out of this unscathed.

"Of course, Master." Anything you want, Master. But only while you hold the cards. Voldemort seemed to know the simmering anger that lay beneath the cool exterior Draco was projecting. Maybe he did. Maybe he could read minds. Draco didn't know, nor did e particularly care at that moment in time.

He waited to hear his job specifications but clearly Voldemort didn't want the whole hall to hear of it. It was enough for them to see the Heir of Malfoy bow before the Master. The room cleared quickly after his barked order, nobody wanting to lag behind and perhaps bear the Masters wrath.

When the room was empty of just the two of them Voldemort rose from his seat and left the dais to stand before Draco, face to face. Draco tried not to flinch as he met the gaze of he who had tortured him the day before. But he couldn't stop himself when one taloned finger stroked along his cheek, nor could he stop his gasp as his jaw was traced in the same manner.

"Have you heard the rumour Draco? That I have a spy inside Dumbledore's sacred school?" Draco shook his head, including in the movement a few steps back, out of reach of the scheming Dark Lord before him. "Of course not. That is one rumour he does not want flying around. It is true. But I have needs of another. Someone less likely to be seen." He seemed to be thinking something through, though Draco was sure that was only for his benefit. Whatever Voldemort was going to do had been long decided, he felt. When he next spoke, it was in slow, careful measures Draco had never heard the Dark Lord use.

"Perhaps what I need is someone with no ties, so to speak. An orphan." Draco reeled in shock at this further threat. "Oh, but then of course there is none to hold to ransom, so to speak." He laughed. A dry rasping laugh that grated on Dracos nerves. "Hmm, how about this," He looked Draco in the eye, his own held no emotion, for maximum effect, "a mother dead, father imprisoned, stripped of any last dignity. The child almost destroyed by that which he was raised to believe in."

Draco shuddered, he looked away from the _thing _standing before him, but refused to give in to the red-eyed stare or the tears threatening to choke him.

"Do you think Draco, that this would be believed, that high-and-mighty Dumbledore would be taken in by my… little… fib?" Each word was deliberately placed and Voldemort was not disappointed as Draco snapped. Roaring his anger he attacked Voldemort, his arms outstretched.

He was stopped in midstep as Voldemort gave a sweep of his wand and a bolt hit him in the chest. For the umpteenth time in twenty-four hours Draco writhed on the stone floor, voice gone as he attempted to scream in agony. As the pain died and blackness claimed him, he hoped for good this time, he heard the hated voice speak once more.

"Kill the mother."

ooo

Draco woke to warmth. A softness under his head that suggested pillow, and a scratchy-scratchy texture above him that said blanket and for a moment he thought it had all been a dream. When he tried he found he could move without pain. But then he opened his eyes.

The unfamiliar room wasn't a welcome sight, neither was the dumpy, red-haired woman in front of him, holding out an unsightly potion for him to drink. Wondering if it was poison he drank hearthily. Dreamless sleep took him once more.

ooo

When he opened his eyes again she was gone. The person who had replaced her wasn't anymore welcome.

Albus Dumbledore sat near the side of his bed, watching him gravely as he struggled to sit up. Cleverly he didn't offer help. As he sat up he realised the blood soaked robes he last worn were gone, replaced by hideous orange pyjamas with something vague to do with cannons.

They spoke softly. Dumbledore telling him quietly about the death of his mother, excuted by the Dark Lord himself. Of how they had rescued him from near death. He wasn't to leave the house, he was told. Nor would he be told where he was, for security reasons, although whose security he wasn't told. He guessed his location anyway, from the clothes and the 'nurse' who'd attended to him earlier. He would make do with the clothes and school books he was offered. He would be reunited with his own belongings when he was back at school.

Draco pretended to be unaffected by all the news and rules he was given in such a short time but as soon as the headmaster had left the room, he huddled beneath the blankets again, not even giving the room a cursory glance now he was alone. He managed to sleep again. This time when he awoke it was most definitely morning and there was a knocking on the door.

It opened without waiting for a response. The first thing Draco noticed was the breakfast tray being carried. The second thing he noticed was the warily smiling person carrying it. He knew on seeing her that Voldemort was a mind reader, he must have to realise the strange connection that had developed between the two before the beginning of the summer and the way things would go once the situation was returned to, notwithstanding the role reversal.

She sat down of the stool left vacant hours before by Dumbledore, leaving the tray down across his lap as he sat up.

"Why are you here?" He growled at her. Hermione only smiled wanly.

"Just returning the favour."

And Draco knew Voldemort had gained himself the perfect spy. One who had the trust and friendship of possibly the smartest young witch in Hogwarts, and more than that, best friend to Harry Potter.


	10. Chapter 10

The hours the train took to go from London to an undisclosed Scotland location passed slowly. Conversation was limited and while someone had offered a game of cards, nobody paid much attention to the game, resulting in many singed fingers. And so the time passed in broody silence. So it was with a sigh of relief that Hermione announced that they were getting close to Hogwarts and should change into their school robes.

When the train pulled into the station, Dawn followed the others as they disembarked. She started when she heard someone call her name. She turned to see a giant striding towards her. Only Harry's whispers persuaded her not to turn tail and run.

"Dawn Summers?" He asked again, more gently this time. She nodded fearfully, she didn't hear the whispering that was going on behind her. "This way please."

He was turned and gone several steps before Harry could convince her to follow him. She ran to catch up. She just caught him up when they turned a corner to see a glassy lake mirroring the moon, and a number of boats bobbing in the gentle breeze. As she followed the giant down to the edge of the lake she felt an odd sense of deja-vu. A glance to Harry, he gestured to her that it was safe to follow on, as she got into one of the boats.

With a little jerk the boats set off. Neither Harry nor the giant seemed to be paying her much attention so she kept her exclamations to a minimum. They other two seemed to be waiting for something so she kept looking ahead. As they rounded a corner in the surrounding cliffs she finally saw what they were waiting to see.

Hogwarts, the most famous castle in the British Isles, reared it magnificent head above the cliffs, turrets pointing high, lights shining like beacons. She gasped at the spectacle of it all. Then remember where she had seen it before. Harry had shown it to her in one of their shared dreams. Even Technicolor dreams couldn't compare to the actual vision.

They came to the dock and disembarked, entering the castle and the huge entrance hall. Dawn wondered briefly if her eyes could actually pop out of her head from staring like she was when a sharp voice pierced her musings.

The owner of the voice, a tall, stern woman watched her hawk-eyed as she came towards her out of the double door behind her.

"Please, follow me," she said. Here Dawn started a lesson in confusion. They went up stairs, along corridors, up more stairs, they waited at the bottom of stairs for them to change destinations, they went down, up, back, forth, till Dawn's head was spinning. Eventually they seemed to have reached a destination.

The gargoyle seemed to stare at them impassively until Dawn's guide whispered something under her breath. This seemed to satisfy the statue as it moved, revealing a moving winding staircase. Her guide stepped onto one of the steps easily and Dawn quickly joined her, pretending it was just an ordinary escalator.

At the top was a single door which they entered without knocking. There was no one there anyway. She was told to take a seat. Dumbledore would be with her in a few moments. She nodded and sat down as the woman left the room.

But she didn't stay sitting long. There was too much to look at and Dawn had always been the curious sort. The poked and prodded, sometimes only looking when she couldn't tell whether or not it would be safe to touch. She could feel Harry's disapproving gaze on her though he followed with as much curiosity as she had. She was working her way up to touching the stuffed bird when she was startled by a calm voice.

"I don't think Fawkes would appreciate being poked or prodded," Dumbledore said with amusement. Dawn jumped in surprise. Her next words added to his amusement.

"It's alive?" The bird moved then and to Dawn it was as if someone had breathed life into a previously inanimate object. She let out an 'eep' of surprise. Dumbledore chuckled.

"Very much alive, I'm afraid," he said smiling. He gestured for her to retake her seat, which she did, blushing.

He sat opposite, half-hidden behind his desk and the objects thereon. These were some of the most intriguing objects in the room, and the only ones she hadn't interfered with in any way, taking the fact that they were on the table to mean that they were actively in use. The fact that different ends periodically belched different coloured smoke had helped make that decision.

The bright red, bird that she had been about to examine, straightened up and seemed to eye her up and down. Dumbledore, however, distracted her from eyeing the bird back indignantly.

"How was your journey?"

"Long, boring." She shrugged. "What am I going to be doing here?"

Dumbledore seemed to ponder that question before answering.

"You will attend classes, learn as much as you can from my teachers. You will also have lessons from me as well as extra lessons outside the set curriculum as I see fit. I'd advise you to study hard-" He was interrupted.

"Let me guess. There'll be tests. One in particular. Pass, fail, you pass, you live, you fail, you die."

He inclined his head gravely.

"Succinct."

"Why waste words."

He nodded his head at this piece of wisdom.

"You will need to be sorted into a house so that points you acquire can be added to the total. Also the house you're placed into will be your home for the remainder of your study here." He rose taking down a battered hat, one that had seen much better days. "This is the sorting hat. It has always been used to decide where students should be placed. It will see the attributes you have and decide which house you belong to."

He placed it on top of his table. Dawn eyed it warily. Then the hat seemed to come to life of its own accord. A tear opened on the brim and it began to speak in a sing song manner.

"Young student dear, please have no fear,

My knowledge is used in the best of minds,

For though yours is new,

I have seen them all,

Young and old, Great and small,

Smart and brave, cunning and loyal,

For Hufflepuff is steadfast true,

And Slytherin is clever canny,

Gryffindor is courageous fast,

And Ravenclaw is in brains the top,

With brain and brawn and cunning finest,

We can outdo them, all the rest."

The hat settled then as Dawn gaped at it.

"Dawn Summers," Dumbledore called formally, before picking up the hat and placing it atop Dawns head. She had a moment of startlement before the hat called again.

ooo

Here ends the second part of the trilogy of Scars.

In the next series:

-We find out what house Dawn will be in (I think I've already decided and no its not obvious but if you want to suggest a house and give a reason you can do so!).

-We meet up the Scoobie Gang.

-We see how Draco is doing in his role of informant (also Ron and he 'interact' - I'll leave that to your imagination!)

-Dawn meets Voldemort (hopefully!)

Join me again here soon!


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